'What about the man who got clear?' Gericke demanded 'Have they found him?'
'Not yet, but they're searching There's an air-sea rescue launch in the area, too.
He pushed a sandalwood box across his desk It contained very long, pencil-slim Dutch cheroots Gericke took one.
Adler said, 'You seem concerned Peter I had never imagined you a humanitarian.'
'I'm not,' Gericke told him bluntly as he put a match to his cheroot, 'but tomorrow night that could be me. I like to think those air-sea rescue bastards are on their toes.'
As he turned away, Adler said, 'Prager wants to see you.'
Lieutenant-Colonel Otto Prager was Gruppenkommandant of Grandjeim, responsible for three Staffeln including Gericke's. He was a strict disciplinarian and an ardent National Socialist neither of which qualities Gericke found particularly pleasing. He atoned for these minor irritations by being a first-rate pilot in his own right totally dedicated to the welfare of the aircrew in his Gruppe.
'What does he want?'
Adler shrugged I couldn't say, but when he telephoned he made it plain it was to be at the earliest possible moment '
'I know,' Bohmler said, 'Goering's been on the phone Invited you to Karinhall for the weekend and about time '
It was a well-known fact that when a Luftwaffe pilot was awarded the Knight's Cross, the Reichsmarschall, as an old flyer himself liked to hand it over in person.
'That'll be the day,' Gericke said grudgingly. The fact was that men with fewer kills to their credit than he had received the coveted award It was a distinctly sore point.
'Never mind, Peter,' Adler called as they went out. 'Your day will come.'
'If I live that long,' Gericke said to Bohmler as they paused on the step of the main entrance to the Operations building 'What about a drink?'
'No, thanks,' Bohmler said 'A hot bath and eight hours sleep are my total requirements. I don't approve of it at this time in the morning. You know that even if we are living backwards way round.'
Haupt was already yawning and Gericke said morosely, 'Bloody Lutheran. All right, sod both of you '
As he started to walk away, Bohmler called 'Don't forget Prager wants to see you '
'Later,' Gericke said 'I'll see him later.'
'He's really asking for it,' Haupt remarked as they watched him go 'What's got into him lately?'
'Like the rest of us, he lands and takes off too often,' Bohmler said.
Gericke walked towards the officers' mess wearily, his flying boots drubbing on the tarmac. He felt unaccountably depressed, stale, somehow at the final end of things. It was strange how he couldn't get that Tommi, the sole survivor of the Lancaster, out of his mind What he needed was a drink. A cup of coffee very hot, and a large schnapps or perhaps a Stemhager?
He walked into the ante-room and the first person he saw was Colonel Prager sitting in an easy chair in the far corner with another officer, their heads together as they talked in subdued tones Gericke hesitated debating whether to turn tail, for the Gruppenkommandant was particularly strict on the question of flying clothes being worn in the mess. Prager looked up and saw him.
'There you are. Peter Come and join us.'
He snapped his finger for the mess waiter who hovered nearby and ordered coffee as Gericke approached. He didn't approve of alcohol where pilots were concerned. 'Good morning Herr Oberst.' Gericke said brightly, intrigued by the other officer, a lieutenant-colonel of Mountain Troops with a black patch over one eye and a Knight's Cross to go with it.
'Congratulations,' Prager said. 'I hear you've got another confirmed kill.'
'That's right, a Lancaster. One man got clear, I saw his chute open. They're looking for him now.'
'Colonel Radl,' Prager said.
Radl held out his good hand and Gericke shook it briefly. 'Herr Oberst.'
Prager was more subdued than he had ever known him. In fact, he was very obviously labouring under some kind of strain, easing himself in the chair as if in acute physical discomfort as the mess waiter brought a tray with a fresh pot of coffee and three cups.
'Leave it, man, leave it!' Prager ordered curtly.
There was a slight strained silence after the waiter had departed. Then the Gruppenkommandeur said abruptly, 'The Herr Oberst here is from the Abwehr. With fresh orders for you.'
'Fresh orders, Herr Oberst?'
Prager got to his feet. 'Colonel Radl can tell you more than I can, but obviously you're being given an extraordinary opportunity to serve the Reich.' Gericke stood up and Prager hesitated then stuck out his hand. 'You've done well here. Peter. I'm proud of you. As for the other business - I've recommended you three times now so it's right out of my hands.'
'I know, Herr Oberst,' Gericke said warmly, 'and I'm grateful.'
Prager walked away and Gericke sat down. Radl said. 'This Lancaster makes thirty-eight confirmed kills, is it not so?'
'You seem remarkably well informed, Herr Oberst,' Gericke said. 'Will you join me in a drink?'
'Why not? A cognac, I think.'
Gericke called to the waiter and gave the order.
'Thirty-eight confirmed kills and no Knight's Cross,' Radl commented. 'Isn't that unusual?'
Gericke stirred uncomfortably. 'The way it goes sometimes.'
'i know,' Radl said. There is also the fact to be taken into consideration that during the summer of nineteen-forty, when you were flying ME one-o-nines out of a base near Calais, you told Reichsmarschall Goering who was inspecting your Staffel. that in your opinion, the Spitfire was a better aircraft.' He smiled gently. 'People of his eminence don't forget junior officers who make remarks like that.'
Gericke said, 'With all due respect, might I point out to the Herr Oberst that in my line of work I can only rely on today because tomorrow I might very possibly be dead, so some idea of what all this is about would be appreciated.'
'It's simple enough,' Radl said. 'I need a pilot for a rather special operation.'
'You need?'
'All right, the Reich,' Radl told him. 'Does that please you any better?'
'Not particularly.' Gericke held up his empty schnapps glass to the waiter and signalled for another. 'As it happens, I'm perfectly happy where I am.'
'A man who consumes schnapps in such an amount at four o'clock in the morning? I doubt that. In any case, you've no choice in the matter.'
'Is that so?' Gericke said angrily.
'You are perfectly at liberty to confirm this with the Gruppenkommandant,' Radl said.
The waiter brought him the second glass of schnapps, Gericke poured it down in one quick swallow and made a face. 'God. how I hate that stuff.'
'Then why drink it?' Radl asked.
'i don't know. Maybe I've been out there in the dark too much or flying too long.' He smiled sardonically. 'Or perhaps I just need a change, Herr Oberst.'
'I think I may say without any exaggeration that I can certainly offer you that.'
'Fine.' Gericke swallowed the rest of his coffee. 'What's the next move?'
'I have an appointment in Amsterdam at nine o'clock. Our destination after that is about twenty miles north of the city, on the way to Den Helder.' He glanced at his watch. 'We'll need to leave here no later than seven-thirty."
'That gives me time for breakfast and a bath,' Gericke said, 'I can catch a little sleep in the car if that's all right with you.'
As he got up, the door opened and an orderly came in. He saluted and passed the young captain a signal flimsy Gericke read it and smiled. 'Something important?' Radl asked.
'The Tommi who parachuted out of that Lancaster. I shot down earlier They've picked him up A Pilot Officer navigator.'
'His luck is good,' Radl commented.
'A good omen,' Gericke said 'Let's hope mine is'
.
Landsvoort was a desolate little place about twenty miles north of Amsterdam between Schagen and the sea Gericke slept soundly for the entire journey, only coming awake when Radl shook his arm.
There was an old farmhouse and barn, two hangars roofed with rusting corrugated iron and a single runway of crumbling concrete grass glowing between the cracks. The wire perimeter fence was nothing very special and the steel and wire swing gate which looked new, was guarded by a sergeant with the distinctive gorget plate of the military police hanging around his neck He was armed with a Schmeisser machine pistol and held a rather savage-looking Alsatian on the end of a steel chain.
He checked their papers impassively while the dog growled deep in its throat full of menace. Radl drove on through the gate and pulled up in front of the hangars Well this is it.
The landscape was incredibly flat, stretching out towards the distant sand dunes and the North Sea beyond. As Gericke opened the door and got out, rain drifted in off the sea in a fine spray and there was the tang of salt to it. He walked across to the edge of the crumbling runway and kicked with his foot until a piece of concrete broke away.
'It was built by a shipping magnate in Rotterdam for his own use ten or twelve years ago,' Radl said as he got out of the car to join him 'What do you think?'
'All we need now are the Wright brothers.' Gericke looked out towards the sea shivered and thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his leather coat 'What a dump - the last place on God's list I should imagine.'
'Therefore exactly right for our purposes,' Radl pointed out 'Now, let's get down to business.'
He led the way across to the first hangar which was guarded by another military policeman complete with Alsatian. Radl nodded and the man pulled back one of the sliding doors.
It was damp and rather cold inside, rain drifting in through a hole in the roof. The twin-engine aircraft which stood there looked lonely and rather forlorn, and very definitely far from home Gericke prided himself that he had long since got past being surprised at anything in this life, but not that morning.
The aircraft was a Douglas DC3 the famous Dakota, probably one of the most successful general transport planes ever built, as much a workhorse for the Allied Forces during the war as was the Junkers 52 to the German Army. The interesting thing about this one was that it carried Luftwaffe insignia on the wings and a Swastika on the tail.
Peter Gericke loved aeroplanes as some men love horses with a deep and unswerving passion. He reached up and touched a wing gently and his voice was soft when he said, 'You old beauty.'
'You know this aircraft?' Radl said.
'Better than any woman.'
'Six months with the Landros Air Freight Company in Brazil from June to November, nineteen-thirty eight. Nine hundred and thirty flying hours. Quite something for a nineteen-year-old. That must have been hard flying'
'So that's why I was chosen?'
'All on your records.'
'Where did you get her?'
'RAF Transport Command dropping supplies to the Dutch Resistance four months ago. One of your night fighter friends got her. Superficial engine damage only. Something to do with the fuel pump I understand. The observer was too badly wounded to jump so the pilot managed to bring her down in a ploughed field. Unfortunately for him he was nextdoor to an SS barracks By the time he got his friend out, it was too late to blow her up.'
The door was open and Gericke pulled himself inside In the cockpit, he sat behind the controls and for a moment he was back in Brazil, green jungle below, the Amazon twisting through it like a great, silver snake from Manaus down to the sea.
Radl took the other seat He produced a silver case and offered Gericke one of his Russian cigarettes 'You could fly this thing, then?'
'Where to?'
'Not very far Across the North Sea to Norfolk Straight in, straight out.'
'To do what?'
'Drop sixteen paratroopers.'
In his astonishment, Gericke inhaled too deeply and almost choked, the harsh Russian tobacco catching at the back of his throat.
He laughed wildly 'Operation Seahon at last. Don't you think it's a trifle late in the war for the invasion of England?'
'This particular section of the coast has no low level radar cover,' Radl said calmly. 'No difficulty at all if you go in below six hundred feet. Naturally I'll have the plane cleaned up and the RAF roundels replaced on the wings. If anyone does see you, they see an RAF aircraft presumably going about its lawful business.'
'But why?' said Gericke 'What in the hell are they going to do when they get there?'
'None of your affair,' Radl said firmly 'You are just a bus driver, my friend.'
